"The Endless Journey" might have been a better choice for my blog name. There are so many twists and turns in trying to figure out the right way to lose weight or even if there is a right way, that this journey is never going to end. It's a lifelong process trying to figure out what works.
Some people figure out what works for them very quickly in the game, some people give up and never figure it out. Then there are people like me, learning something new every single day, that have some of the answers, but certainly not all of them.
Geneen Roth's book Women, Food and God provides a lot of the answers on what's wrong with me. It works if you follow her guidelines. If you don't, it doesn't work. It's just like every other plan, you can't just read the book, attend a workshop and then forget about it. You have to continue to work at it.
What I'm finding is that it's not easy to feel the pain instead of eating. In fact, it kind of hurts like hell. It's like ripping a band aid off of a wound and the scab sticks to the band aid and now you're in excruciating pain. I'm not sure how I feel about this type of introspection into my psyche. It's not pleasant and some days I'm just not up to it.
On the other hand, I suspect it's the only way I'll ever feel okay about food. I know this is a very slow process, undoing forty plus years of using food for comfort, not facing my reality, and it isn't going to change overnight.
I haven't posted since last Sunday, four days of silence. It was an odd week where I was extremely tired every day. Each night I came home and could barely move. I skipped the gym three days in a row due to pure exhaustion. Wednesday night I went to bed at 7:30pm and woke up at 7:30am Thursday morning, twelve hours of sleep. I guess I was tired.
I have today off from work, for no particular reason. I just felt like I needed a day off. I weighed this morning and I'm 174.6 which is oddly almost exactly the weight in my blog profile. I think that was posted a couple of months ago. Although I'm not gaining weight and I'm eating well (probably a little too well), I'm not losing weight.
I'll be honest, I don't like following Geneen Roth's eating guidelines. It's a lot harder than it sounds. My least favorite guideline is #3. I find it almost impossible to just sit quietly and eat, without doing anything else. On Geneen's CD that I purchased at her workshop, she said you should try to do this once a day in the beginning, more often if possible, and at the very least a few times a week. It's not easy.
Geneen Roth's Eating Guidelines
1. Eat when you are hungry. (Truly hungry, body hungry not mind hungry)
2. Eat sitting down in a calm environment. This does not include the car.
3.Eat without distractions. Distractions include radio, television, newspaper, books, intense or anxiety producing conversation and music.
4. Eat only what your body wants. (Big difference from what your MIND wants!)
5. Eat until you are satisfied. (This is different than full).
6. Eat (with the intention of being) in full view of others.
7. Eat with enjoyment, gusto and pleasure.
I've decided on a different route to get to my goal weight. It's a hybrid of the above eating guidelines AND Weight Watchers. I realize this doesn't sound possible, but it really is possible. I can still do the above eating guidelines but also attend Weight Watcher meetings and follow their eating plan.
My goal is by December 31, 2010, lose ten pounds. That's not a crazy amount of weight in ten weeks, but it is the holidays which makes it a tiny bit harder than normal. I feel more at peace with this idea than just doing it on my own. I also know at my current weight that my weight loss is pretty slow, unless I starve myself. I have no intention of starving myself. Been there, done that and it doesn't work in the long run.
The endless journey continues...
Friday, October 22, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The lost weekend
I said I'd post my driver's license pictures from the last twenty years today. I started to but after fighting with Photoshop for about an hour trying to crop them and change the blurriness I decided I'm just to tired and it's past my bedtime. Maybe later this week. They all look like mugshots anyway so I'm not sure why I want to post them. Some of them are really bad pictures. Especially the one where I weighed 240 pounds that was taken five years ago. I look like I'm wearing a fat suit.
My weekend was okay, but I worked both days. Saturday from home and today I went into the office. All I can say about that is "yuk". Not fun to work on the weekends. I want my life back.
My scales lured me back on to them today. Old habits are hard to break. I was actually down to 173.6. So I actually lost the 1.4 I gained plus another .4. In the big picture, that's really nothing. I still want to lose at least another thirty or more pounds, but I refuse to go on a "diet".
I like not being so stressed out by my eating. I even had a glass of wine yesterday without guilt. I'm cutting back a bit on my portion sizes. I know how much I should eat and this isn't a free-for-all where I can eat until I'm stuffed. The idea is still to lose weight, but not get so crazy about it. I don't want it to consume me like it has in the past.
I want to write more about the other eating guidelines, but right now, I can barely stay awake. Later, I promise.
My weekend was okay, but I worked both days. Saturday from home and today I went into the office. All I can say about that is "yuk". Not fun to work on the weekends. I want my life back.
My scales lured me back on to them today. Old habits are hard to break. I was actually down to 173.6. So I actually lost the 1.4 I gained plus another .4. In the big picture, that's really nothing. I still want to lose at least another thirty or more pounds, but I refuse to go on a "diet".
I like not being so stressed out by my eating. I even had a glass of wine yesterday without guilt. I'm cutting back a bit on my portion sizes. I know how much I should eat and this isn't a free-for-all where I can eat until I'm stuffed. The idea is still to lose weight, but not get so crazy about it. I don't want it to consume me like it has in the past.
I want to write more about the other eating guidelines, but right now, I can barely stay awake. Later, I promise.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
I'm amazingly okay with my weight gain
Today is my weigh-in day. After a full week of practicing Geneen Roth's Women Food and God eating guidelines I stepped on the scales. I knew I had gained a little. Over the years I've become very attuned to the ups and downs of my weight. I always know if it's going to be a gain or a loss.
Before I looked down at the number I had a conversation with myself. It went something like this:
"Diana, it's okay. If you've gained and you probably have, it's not a big deal. This is an experiment. Something new you've never tried before. It's just a number. It doesn't define you. Remember, this was a good week regardless of what you see on the scales."
I looked down and saw 175.4. Last week I was 174.0. A gain of 1.4 pounds. Did I have just a twinge of regret? Yes, just a twinge. Not a foot-stomping, full-out "I hate myself" reaction that I would normally have over a weight gain.
I realize I don't really understand when I'm hungry. If you consider that for 42 years I've either been on some sort of restrictive diet to lose weight or on a full-out binge streak, it's not surprising that I don't know how to listen to my body and give it what it needs. I haven't been listening to it for 42 years. Things aren't going to change in a week.
Although I have made huge strides this past week. Things happened that I never thought possible. My night eating almost stopped. I slept better than I have in months or even years. I didn't feel stressed out about my eating. I felt more relaxed. I felt satisfied with my food. I ate healthy, wholesome food.
Then last night happened. It was not a good night for me. I got home late from a Toastmaster's function and then proceeded to get into a huge argument with my husband. He went to bed mad at me. I'd eaten an early dinner at 4pm before the function and it was 11pm. I was starving.
I ate until I was stuffed: a big handful of pecans, a piece of bread, a banana, a large bowl of my South Beach veggie chicken soup, 1/2 of a cantaloupe, a tapioca pudding cup and about 1/2 cup of Redi-Whip straight out of the can (I would have had more, but the can was empty). I felt physically sick and mentally hurt.
Why did I do that? It's pretty obvious. I was frustrated, angry, hurt, and feeling lost and alone. Not good emotions. I was also very tired from another incredibly stressful work week. I didn't want to feel the pain of all of it so I ate. I shoved those feelings down with food. I knew what I was doing but I did it anyway.
On the other hand I ate normally the rest of the week. 167 hours of normal behavior with food. One hour of craziness. I say that's about a 99% improvement over my past behavior when it came to food.
I didn't follow all the eating guidelines perfectly last week, but it isn't about perfection. They're guidelines, not rules.
It's more about trying to be more normal. Learning to listen to my body. More importantly, figuring out if it's hunger or something else. I was amazed at how often I identified it as something else. I think that's a big reason why I stopped eating late at night, with the exception of last night. I would consciously think, am I really hungry? Or is something else bothering me? Most of the time, it was something else.
Last night I was a little hungry when I got home since it was so late, and I'd eaten at 4pm. I was also extremely tired. Even though I was very aware that I should stop eating, and that I was actually really angry and hurt by the argument with my husband, I still chose food. I just wanted my old friend, food, to comfort me. It didn't work. I woke up today feeling like the food was still in my stomach. Feeling sluggish and more tired than when I had gone to bed.
On the exercise front I've been doing excellent. The past seven days I've hit the gym every day for a great workout. The old StairMaster at my gym finally completely stopped working about three months. It was my favorite piece of equipment. I spent many hours on it climbing the stairs to nowhere.
A couple weeks ago I asked the young receptionist if there was a possibility they could get a replacement StairMaster from another gym. A friend told me the Ballys in Bellevue had three new StairMasters. Now we had none. Why couldn't we get one of theirs? She said she'd look into it and she did!
I walked in yesterday and there sat a beautiful, almost new StairMaster. It was like Christmas! I jumped on it even though I'd already done 45 minutes of cardio on the CrossRamp in another room, but I did 20 minutes on the StairMaster. She was quiet and smooth as I climbed her stairs and her heart rate monitor works! She could read my Polar heart rate monitor. Oh how I love thee!
So another week of trying to follow the eating guidelines. I'm still not tracking my food or counting Points or calories, although it's really hard not to add things up in my head. After years of restriction or binging, this isn't an easy process.
I still won't be weighing in every day. That's another really hard habit to break, but it was also freeing. It felt good to get up and know I didn't have to beat myself up over my weight. I'll weigh in again next Saturday. I don't have a fear of another gain, although it could happen. I'll probably cut back a little. My bowls of soup have been about three times what I would normally eat. I probably took the "what my body needs" to more of what my mind wants instead.
Tomorrow I'm going to post my driver's license pictures from the last twenty years. I found them in a box from my decluttering my life binge I've been on lately. Kind of interesting how my weight has gone up and down during the years and how much I lied on my driver's licenses about it. The only time I told the truth was in 1995 when I weighed 126 pounds. I remember weighing that morning before I went to the DMV and thinking wow, I can actually tell them what I really weigh and not be embarrassed about it. That was probably the last time I was actually happy with my weight. Fifteen years ago. Sad.
Before I looked down at the number I had a conversation with myself. It went something like this:
"Diana, it's okay. If you've gained and you probably have, it's not a big deal. This is an experiment. Something new you've never tried before. It's just a number. It doesn't define you. Remember, this was a good week regardless of what you see on the scales."
I looked down and saw 175.4. Last week I was 174.0. A gain of 1.4 pounds. Did I have just a twinge of regret? Yes, just a twinge. Not a foot-stomping, full-out "I hate myself" reaction that I would normally have over a weight gain.
I realize I don't really understand when I'm hungry. If you consider that for 42 years I've either been on some sort of restrictive diet to lose weight or on a full-out binge streak, it's not surprising that I don't know how to listen to my body and give it what it needs. I haven't been listening to it for 42 years. Things aren't going to change in a week.
Although I have made huge strides this past week. Things happened that I never thought possible. My night eating almost stopped. I slept better than I have in months or even years. I didn't feel stressed out about my eating. I felt more relaxed. I felt satisfied with my food. I ate healthy, wholesome food.
Then last night happened. It was not a good night for me. I got home late from a Toastmaster's function and then proceeded to get into a huge argument with my husband. He went to bed mad at me. I'd eaten an early dinner at 4pm before the function and it was 11pm. I was starving.
I ate until I was stuffed: a big handful of pecans, a piece of bread, a banana, a large bowl of my South Beach veggie chicken soup, 1/2 of a cantaloupe, a tapioca pudding cup and about 1/2 cup of Redi-Whip straight out of the can (I would have had more, but the can was empty). I felt physically sick and mentally hurt.
Why did I do that? It's pretty obvious. I was frustrated, angry, hurt, and feeling lost and alone. Not good emotions. I was also very tired from another incredibly stressful work week. I didn't want to feel the pain of all of it so I ate. I shoved those feelings down with food. I knew what I was doing but I did it anyway.
On the other hand I ate normally the rest of the week. 167 hours of normal behavior with food. One hour of craziness. I say that's about a 99% improvement over my past behavior when it came to food.
I didn't follow all the eating guidelines perfectly last week, but it isn't about perfection. They're guidelines, not rules.
It's more about trying to be more normal. Learning to listen to my body. More importantly, figuring out if it's hunger or something else. I was amazed at how often I identified it as something else. I think that's a big reason why I stopped eating late at night, with the exception of last night. I would consciously think, am I really hungry? Or is something else bothering me? Most of the time, it was something else.
Last night I was a little hungry when I got home since it was so late, and I'd eaten at 4pm. I was also extremely tired. Even though I was very aware that I should stop eating, and that I was actually really angry and hurt by the argument with my husband, I still chose food. I just wanted my old friend, food, to comfort me. It didn't work. I woke up today feeling like the food was still in my stomach. Feeling sluggish and more tired than when I had gone to bed.
On the exercise front I've been doing excellent. The past seven days I've hit the gym every day for a great workout. The old StairMaster at my gym finally completely stopped working about three months. It was my favorite piece of equipment. I spent many hours on it climbing the stairs to nowhere.
A couple weeks ago I asked the young receptionist if there was a possibility they could get a replacement StairMaster from another gym. A friend told me the Ballys in Bellevue had three new StairMasters. Now we had none. Why couldn't we get one of theirs? She said she'd look into it and she did!
I walked in yesterday and there sat a beautiful, almost new StairMaster. It was like Christmas! I jumped on it even though I'd already done 45 minutes of cardio on the CrossRamp in another room, but I did 20 minutes on the StairMaster. She was quiet and smooth as I climbed her stairs and her heart rate monitor works! She could read my Polar heart rate monitor. Oh how I love thee!
So another week of trying to follow the eating guidelines. I'm still not tracking my food or counting Points or calories, although it's really hard not to add things up in my head. After years of restriction or binging, this isn't an easy process.
I still won't be weighing in every day. That's another really hard habit to break, but it was also freeing. It felt good to get up and know I didn't have to beat myself up over my weight. I'll weigh in again next Saturday. I don't have a fear of another gain, although it could happen. I'll probably cut back a little. My bowls of soup have been about three times what I would normally eat. I probably took the "what my body needs" to more of what my mind wants instead.
Tomorrow I'm going to post my driver's license pictures from the last twenty years. I found them in a box from my decluttering my life binge I've been on lately. Kind of interesting how my weight has gone up and down during the years and how much I lied on my driver's licenses about it. The only time I told the truth was in 1995 when I weighed 126 pounds. I remember weighing that morning before I went to the DMV and thinking wow, I can actually tell them what I really weigh and not be embarrassed about it. That was probably the last time I was actually happy with my weight. Fifteen years ago. Sad.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
What it means to me: Eating Guideline #1 Eat when hungry
When I first read Geneen Roth's Women Food and God last July, I was very excited. It was all I could talk about. I was about three fourths of the way through the book when I read about the Eating Guidelines.
I couldn't wait to read the "Eating Guidelines". So I skipped ahead to page 111, eagerly reading what I just knew would change my life.
Guideline #1 - Eat when hungry.
What the hell? I was angry. Furious at this Geneen Roth woman. She must be a freaking idiot to write such nonsense. Eat when hungry? Seriously? Excuse me lady, but that's what got me up to 240 pounds. If I had kept eating when I was hungry, in a few years I would weigh five hundred pounds. I'd become a bed person and they'd have to cut down the walls to get me out of my house. Eating when hungry? Who would think of such foolishness?
I felt like I'd been scammed. Cheated. I was hungry 24 x 7. I thought of food continually. If I really ate when I was hungry, I'd never put down my fork. So much for Geneen Roth. I was done with her.
Then there was the workshop. You have no idea how much I didn't want to go last weekend. I was dreading it. Thankfully Grace decided to go too. If it hadn't been for her I may have just not showed up, and then I would have missed one of the best learning experiences of my life.
Eat when hungry.
What does that mean? Sounds pretty obvious, if you're hungry, you eat. Not exactly rocket science. But wait. There's more. When are you hungry? Do you even know? I didn't. I thought I was always hungry. I thought I had some type of mental or physical disease. Most people don't obsess about food like me. It's like there was something wired wrong in my brain, something that made me think I always needed to eat.
After the workshop I started to really analyze my feelings of hunger. Was I really hungry? Or was it something else?
Maybe I was hurt because my husband said something insensitive, or he left for work without a goodbye kiss, just a "bye, see you later!" as he ran out the door.
Maybe it was worry about my job and that stupid NY Times article about if you're unemployed now at age 55 you'll probably never work again.
Maybe it's rejection, lack of love, fear of being homeless...maybe it's none of those things, maybe I'm just thirsty or bored.
I remember once I told a coworker that I was starving to death. I was being super strict with my diet (Weight Watchers), and I was really hungry. His comment was "well, eat something!". My response, "I can't do that! I might gain weight!".
Stupid, stupid girl. I really was hungry. Why didn't I just eat? Because I was afraid of gaining weight. It's been my lifelong theme.
I'm coming to terms with the idea of eating when I'm actually hungry. What's harder is coming to terms when it's something else and that something isn't thirsty or bored. What about rejection? Or the feeling of not being loved and cherished? Loneliness. Sadness. Past hurts. Current hurts. Fear. Feeling those emotions isn't fun. It would be easier to push them down with food. It's easier to just not think about the bad stuff.
The thing I'm most amazed about is that this isn't the hardest guideline for me, although it's somewhat difficult facing all those emotions I use to smash down with food. I was sure it was going to be impossible. I was sure I'd want to go on a full out binge. Surprisingly I really have no desire to eat like a crazed, food obsessed mad woman.
For the first time in 42 years, I think I know what it's like to eat like a normal person. Normal has always been my goal. I just want to feel normal about food, and I want to be a normal weight.
I'm still early into this process, and I have a lot to learn about myself. It's only been five days and I'm sure there will be bumps in the road. I only know that in a short time I've made huge advances in how I feel about food, about myself. I feel more comfortable with my decisions of what I'm eating, more relaxed. Calm.
Eat when hungry. Apparently it is possible for me.
I couldn't wait to read the "Eating Guidelines". So I skipped ahead to page 111, eagerly reading what I just knew would change my life.
Guideline #1 - Eat when hungry.
What the hell? I was angry. Furious at this Geneen Roth woman. She must be a freaking idiot to write such nonsense. Eat when hungry? Seriously? Excuse me lady, but that's what got me up to 240 pounds. If I had kept eating when I was hungry, in a few years I would weigh five hundred pounds. I'd become a bed person and they'd have to cut down the walls to get me out of my house. Eating when hungry? Who would think of such foolishness?
I felt like I'd been scammed. Cheated. I was hungry 24 x 7. I thought of food continually. If I really ate when I was hungry, I'd never put down my fork. So much for Geneen Roth. I was done with her.
Then there was the workshop. You have no idea how much I didn't want to go last weekend. I was dreading it. Thankfully Grace decided to go too. If it hadn't been for her I may have just not showed up, and then I would have missed one of the best learning experiences of my life.
Eat when hungry.
What does that mean? Sounds pretty obvious, if you're hungry, you eat. Not exactly rocket science. But wait. There's more. When are you hungry? Do you even know? I didn't. I thought I was always hungry. I thought I had some type of mental or physical disease. Most people don't obsess about food like me. It's like there was something wired wrong in my brain, something that made me think I always needed to eat.
After the workshop I started to really analyze my feelings of hunger. Was I really hungry? Or was it something else?
Maybe I was hurt because my husband said something insensitive, or he left for work without a goodbye kiss, just a "bye, see you later!" as he ran out the door.
Maybe it was worry about my job and that stupid NY Times article about if you're unemployed now at age 55 you'll probably never work again.
Maybe it's rejection, lack of love, fear of being homeless...maybe it's none of those things, maybe I'm just thirsty or bored.
I remember once I told a coworker that I was starving to death. I was being super strict with my diet (Weight Watchers), and I was really hungry. His comment was "well, eat something!". My response, "I can't do that! I might gain weight!".
Stupid, stupid girl. I really was hungry. Why didn't I just eat? Because I was afraid of gaining weight. It's been my lifelong theme.
I'm coming to terms with the idea of eating when I'm actually hungry. What's harder is coming to terms when it's something else and that something isn't thirsty or bored. What about rejection? Or the feeling of not being loved and cherished? Loneliness. Sadness. Past hurts. Current hurts. Fear. Feeling those emotions isn't fun. It would be easier to push them down with food. It's easier to just not think about the bad stuff.
The thing I'm most amazed about is that this isn't the hardest guideline for me, although it's somewhat difficult facing all those emotions I use to smash down with food. I was sure it was going to be impossible. I was sure I'd want to go on a full out binge. Surprisingly I really have no desire to eat like a crazed, food obsessed mad woman.
For the first time in 42 years, I think I know what it's like to eat like a normal person. Normal has always been my goal. I just want to feel normal about food, and I want to be a normal weight.
I'm still early into this process, and I have a lot to learn about myself. It's only been five days and I'm sure there will be bumps in the road. I only know that in a short time I've made huge advances in how I feel about food, about myself. I feel more comfortable with my decisions of what I'm eating, more relaxed. Calm.
Eat when hungry. Apparently it is possible for me.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Healing thyself
During the past four days I've come the realization just how sick I was when it came to food. I have abused it my entire life.
Tonight as I was eating dinner, distraction free, I realized this is the first time I wasn't either on a diet of some kind or in the midst of a full-blown binge. I'm a black and white kind of gal, either I'm on a diet or I'm not. If I'm not, then it's a literal food fest, eating anything and everything in sight.
For four days I've eaten like a "normal" person. I haven't binged, eaten in the middle of the night, or eaten mindlessly. I haven't stuffed myself until my tummy hurt. I haven't eaten in front of the TV or while reading reading a book or while on the laptop. I haven't had crazy cravings or felt like I was going to die if I didn't eat something or in some cases, everything.
I also haven't abused my new found freedom. I'm eating a few things I haven't eaten in a really long time. Today instead of Stevia I added honey to my Greek yogurt.
Dinner tonight was a very small piece of top sirloin steak, broiled to perfection. The piece was pretty small, but I cut it into small bites and savored each one. I had red bell pepper slices drizzled with real blue cheese dressing. Not a lot, but enough so that each piece had a small amount. I had Brussels sprouts again, but without Smart Balance, just a little sea salt. My beverage was a glass of milk of 1% milk. It was a very tasty and enjoyable dinner. I felt totally satisfied.
This morning I made my favorite soup. It's a South Beach recipe, Chicken and Veggie Chowder (the recipe is at the end of this post). In the past when I'd make this soup, I'd cook the chicken separately and then careful weigh four ounces of chicken for each serving. Today I just added all the cut-up chicken breasts in with everything else, just like the recipe says you're suppose to do. It'll all work out in the end. This is part of my healing process, to stop being so compulsive about my food, always worrying about it. Always trying to be exactly perfect in my eating. It's exhausting.
I'm trying to look at food differently. Instead of it being my main source of pleasure as well as my main source of pain, I'm trying to look at it for what it really is...a source of nutrition for my body. If it tastes good, that's a bonus, and then it also becomes a source of pleasure.
I'm also trying to listen to my body more, not my mind. Of course my mind would like candy and cake and ice cream. My body, not so much. I didn't post this last week because it was embarrassing, but Monday of last week, in the midst of my cold, I had a pint of ice cream, Ben and Jerry's Heath Bar. I ate the whole thing. The I ate an entire package of vanilla Oreos. An entire package. I was so sick I thought I was going to die. I had night sweats from the sugar. Horrible night sweats where I was drenched. I think if my body could have killed me at that moment, it would have. The funny thing, none of it tasted that good. Probably because I had a cold, but it really wasn't worth it.
Another discovery these past few days is that I really hate coffee. I've always hated it. It's okay if you add sugar and milk, but plain coffee, yuk. Yet I've been drinking it, along with a few caffeine pills here and there and then sleeping pills at night. It's a miracle my body didn't just shut down a long time ago because of the abuse I've dumped on it. I've almost entirely cut out the coffee, and have stopped the caffeine pills and sleeping pills entirely
I've been thinking about all the diet plans I've been on in my life. The list is endless. Every single one of them was restrictive, and I would follow them perfectly, 100%. For a certain amount of time. Then, I'd reach my breaking point and all bets were off. I'd become a crazed, food obsessed nut case.
The hardest part for me is the math. Stopping myself from doing the math in my head. I know the calories, fat grams, carbs in almost every food. I know the Weight Watcher Points as well. When I'm preparing a meal I find myself adding up the items. I have to consciously tell myself to "STOP IT!". It's not important right now.
Also, for the record, I'm not following any diet. I was thinking back to when I felt my healthiest and was when I was eating the foods recommended by the South Beach Diet. Since I'm not on a "diet", I'm not following the SB Diet per se, but I did enjoy the foods on that "diet" the most. The difference though is if I want a little honey in my oatmeal or my yogurt, I'm going to have it.
I'm really curious how this week is going to end. Will I gain weight? Will I lose weight? Will I be furious if I gain a couple pounds? I'm trying to keep an open mind about this. It's an experiment, to see if I can be normal when it comes to food. To see if I can really heal thyself.
Tonight as I was eating dinner, distraction free, I realized this is the first time I wasn't either on a diet of some kind or in the midst of a full-blown binge. I'm a black and white kind of gal, either I'm on a diet or I'm not. If I'm not, then it's a literal food fest, eating anything and everything in sight.
For four days I've eaten like a "normal" person. I haven't binged, eaten in the middle of the night, or eaten mindlessly. I haven't stuffed myself until my tummy hurt. I haven't eaten in front of the TV or while reading reading a book or while on the laptop. I haven't had crazy cravings or felt like I was going to die if I didn't eat something or in some cases, everything.
I also haven't abused my new found freedom. I'm eating a few things I haven't eaten in a really long time. Today instead of Stevia I added honey to my Greek yogurt.
Dinner tonight was a very small piece of top sirloin steak, broiled to perfection. The piece was pretty small, but I cut it into small bites and savored each one. I had red bell pepper slices drizzled with real blue cheese dressing. Not a lot, but enough so that each piece had a small amount. I had Brussels sprouts again, but without Smart Balance, just a little sea salt. My beverage was a glass of milk of 1% milk. It was a very tasty and enjoyable dinner. I felt totally satisfied.
This morning I made my favorite soup. It's a South Beach recipe, Chicken and Veggie Chowder (the recipe is at the end of this post). In the past when I'd make this soup, I'd cook the chicken separately and then careful weigh four ounces of chicken for each serving. Today I just added all the cut-up chicken breasts in with everything else, just like the recipe says you're suppose to do. It'll all work out in the end. This is part of my healing process, to stop being so compulsive about my food, always worrying about it. Always trying to be exactly perfect in my eating. It's exhausting.
I'm trying to look at food differently. Instead of it being my main source of pleasure as well as my main source of pain, I'm trying to look at it for what it really is...a source of nutrition for my body. If it tastes good, that's a bonus, and then it also becomes a source of pleasure.
I'm also trying to listen to my body more, not my mind. Of course my mind would like candy and cake and ice cream. My body, not so much. I didn't post this last week because it was embarrassing, but Monday of last week, in the midst of my cold, I had a pint of ice cream, Ben and Jerry's Heath Bar. I ate the whole thing. The I ate an entire package of vanilla Oreos. An entire package. I was so sick I thought I was going to die. I had night sweats from the sugar. Horrible night sweats where I was drenched. I think if my body could have killed me at that moment, it would have. The funny thing, none of it tasted that good. Probably because I had a cold, but it really wasn't worth it.
Another discovery these past few days is that I really hate coffee. I've always hated it. It's okay if you add sugar and milk, but plain coffee, yuk. Yet I've been drinking it, along with a few caffeine pills here and there and then sleeping pills at night. It's a miracle my body didn't just shut down a long time ago because of the abuse I've dumped on it. I've almost entirely cut out the coffee, and have stopped the caffeine pills and sleeping pills entirely
I've been thinking about all the diet plans I've been on in my life. The list is endless. Every single one of them was restrictive, and I would follow them perfectly, 100%. For a certain amount of time. Then, I'd reach my breaking point and all bets were off. I'd become a crazed, food obsessed nut case.
The hardest part for me is the math. Stopping myself from doing the math in my head. I know the calories, fat grams, carbs in almost every food. I know the Weight Watcher Points as well. When I'm preparing a meal I find myself adding up the items. I have to consciously tell myself to "STOP IT!". It's not important right now.
Also, for the record, I'm not following any diet. I was thinking back to when I felt my healthiest and was when I was eating the foods recommended by the South Beach Diet. Since I'm not on a "diet", I'm not following the SB Diet per se, but I did enjoy the foods on that "diet" the most. The difference though is if I want a little honey in my oatmeal or my yogurt, I'm going to have it.
I'm really curious how this week is going to end. Will I gain weight? Will I lose weight? Will I be furious if I gain a couple pounds? I'm trying to keep an open mind about this. It's an experiment, to see if I can be normal when it comes to food. To see if I can really heal thyself.
Monday, October 11, 2010
It's just the beginning
After my long, soul-searching post yesterday, I feel about a million times better about my life. I know it's only been a couple of days, but I feel so different that it's hard to put it into words.
For the first time in my life, I'm not consumed by thoughts of food. When will I eat? What will I eat? How much will I eat? Will I eat too much? Will I eat the wrong thing? Will I gain weight if I eat that? Will I have a binge today? Will I lose control?
It's like I've been under an evil spell for over forty years. A spell that was cast on me to always make me worry about what I eat. To always be fearful of food. To always have food be in control of me and not me in control of it.
It's like I found the source of my pain, which was actually compounded by how I've handled the pain, discomfort, sadness, and loneliness in my life. I avoided it. I ate to stop the feelings. I refused to face the pain because it just hurt too much. Instead, it was better to eat away the pain. The only problem with that little theory is that it doesn't work.
Today I canceled my Weight Watcher membership. I've only been going to about one meeting a month and honestly, I've lost interest in it. It's served it's purpose for me. I know what to eat, and how much to eat. I understand portion size and the Weight Watcher healthy eating guidelines. Now it's time for me to move on, to try something different. Not another diet. Not another weight loss plan. Instead, I want to stop my war with food.
Still, it's scary to leave Weight Watchers after almost three years. I can always rejoin, however, I don't think I'll ever want to.
I weighed this morning on my scales here at home. 174.0 pounds. Afterwards I placed the scales on the top shelf in the back of my closet. I need a step stool to get to them.
I have weighed myself every day for the last 42 years. I've made myself crazy with those weighins. It's time to stop it. At least for now. I need to give the daily weighins a break. I'll weigh again next Saturday.
Today I followed Geneen's seven eating guidelines. It was not easy, but it made a huge difference. I bought her CD where she explains the eating guidelines in depth. She said it's all or nothing. You can't say you don't like doing one thing and then decide to just not do it. It doesn't work that way.
I know that's true because that's what I tried last summer when I read the book. I didn't like #3, Eat without distractions. Distractions include radio, television, newspapers, books, intense or anxiety-producing conversations or music. This one is the hardest for me. I'm getting use to it now, but it was very odd the first couple of times. It really makes me focus on what I'm eating, because well, there's just nothing else to focus on. Surprisingly, it makes me feel a lot more satisfied with my meal.
Today I ate what my body wanted. I didn't weigh or measure most of my food, except the oatmeal. I didn't write down what I ate or figure out the calories or the Points. I didn't worry about it. You can't even begin to imagine how this made me feel. It was very difficult, but it also felt like freedom.
In case you're wondering, here's what I had to eat today and all of this food is really what I felt like my body wanted. I won't be posting my food every day, because that bores me pieces to write about what I eat. I just wanted to show you what I ate when trying to not be totally restrictive with my food.
1 cup of coffee with Stevia and 1% milk (maybe 1/4 cup -?)
1/2 cup oatmeal, microwaved with a cup of water
some dried cranberries, maybe 20 (?)
a few walnuts, maybe 6 halves (?)
a splash of 1% milk
1 tablespoon of Splenda/brown sugar mix. I would have used honey but we didn't have any.
1 small banana
I savored every bite and it was delicious.
I somehow missed lunch and found myself at the gym at 4pm starving to death. That was a total accident because I was running errands and forgot to eat. I had some Kashi bars in my car, some new pumpkin pecan bars. I ate two. I checked the label because I still do that, and they were 120 calories each. This was the only time I didn't follow the not eating in the car guideline, but I was parked at the gym and not listening to the radio.
I worked out doing cardio for an hour at the gym.
When I walked in the door at home, I was once again starving. I'd burned over 500 calories during my workout.
I decided to have another snack before I made dinner.
1 small banana
about 1/2 a glass of 1% milk maybe 3/4 cup
I sat at the table, slowly eating the banana, drinking the milk. I really wanted to shove it in my mouth and drink the milk in one big gulp, but I took the time to taste the banana and enjoy my snack.
Dinner was simple and it really was what I wanted, which is oddly what I eat quite often.
A large chicken breast, much larger than my normal 4 ounces, but I didn't weigh it. It was broiled with the Costco Sweet Mesquite Seasoning (love that stuff), and served with a little barbecue sauce
Brussels Sprouts, more than my normal serving, maybe 1 1/2 cups
Cherry tomatoes
A big glass of water
About an hour after dinner I had a KozyShack tapioca cup. It was not sugar-free. Topped with a squirt (a large one) of non-fat Redi-whip, which I won't be eating again. The pudding was wonderful, the Redi-whip was gross.
I'm cutting back on the sugar-free junk I've been eating. I'll still use Stevia because I don't mind the taste of it. I won't be eating a lot of sugar because it doesn't make me feel good. When I eat a lot of it, I get night sweats really bad. A small amount is okay, a lot is bad for me.
It's almost 9:30pm, and I'm going to eat a smallish Honeycrisp apple before I go to bed.
This is a lot more food than I normally eat, but I don't think I'll be getting up and gorging myself on a 500 to a 1,000 midnight snack tonight
I'm really curious if a week of eating like this will make a difference. Am I being stupid thinking I don't need to count every calorie I put in my mouth? Is this a mistake? Yes, it's that voice talking to me again, telling me I'm going to screw this up and gain a hundred pounds.
It needs to shut up.
For the first time in my life, I'm not consumed by thoughts of food. When will I eat? What will I eat? How much will I eat? Will I eat too much? Will I eat the wrong thing? Will I gain weight if I eat that? Will I have a binge today? Will I lose control?
It's like I've been under an evil spell for over forty years. A spell that was cast on me to always make me worry about what I eat. To always be fearful of food. To always have food be in control of me and not me in control of it.
It's like I found the source of my pain, which was actually compounded by how I've handled the pain, discomfort, sadness, and loneliness in my life. I avoided it. I ate to stop the feelings. I refused to face the pain because it just hurt too much. Instead, it was better to eat away the pain. The only problem with that little theory is that it doesn't work.
Today I canceled my Weight Watcher membership. I've only been going to about one meeting a month and honestly, I've lost interest in it. It's served it's purpose for me. I know what to eat, and how much to eat. I understand portion size and the Weight Watcher healthy eating guidelines. Now it's time for me to move on, to try something different. Not another diet. Not another weight loss plan. Instead, I want to stop my war with food.
Still, it's scary to leave Weight Watchers after almost three years. I can always rejoin, however, I don't think I'll ever want to.
I weighed this morning on my scales here at home. 174.0 pounds. Afterwards I placed the scales on the top shelf in the back of my closet. I need a step stool to get to them.
I have weighed myself every day for the last 42 years. I've made myself crazy with those weighins. It's time to stop it. At least for now. I need to give the daily weighins a break. I'll weigh again next Saturday.
Today I followed Geneen's seven eating guidelines. It was not easy, but it made a huge difference. I bought her CD where she explains the eating guidelines in depth. She said it's all or nothing. You can't say you don't like doing one thing and then decide to just not do it. It doesn't work that way.
I know that's true because that's what I tried last summer when I read the book. I didn't like #3, Eat without distractions. Distractions include radio, television, newspapers, books, intense or anxiety-producing conversations or music. This one is the hardest for me. I'm getting use to it now, but it was very odd the first couple of times. It really makes me focus on what I'm eating, because well, there's just nothing else to focus on. Surprisingly, it makes me feel a lot more satisfied with my meal.
Today I ate what my body wanted. I didn't weigh or measure most of my food, except the oatmeal. I didn't write down what I ate or figure out the calories or the Points. I didn't worry about it. You can't even begin to imagine how this made me feel. It was very difficult, but it also felt like freedom.
In case you're wondering, here's what I had to eat today and all of this food is really what I felt like my body wanted. I won't be posting my food every day, because that bores me pieces to write about what I eat. I just wanted to show you what I ate when trying to not be totally restrictive with my food.
1 cup of coffee with Stevia and 1% milk (maybe 1/4 cup -?)
1/2 cup oatmeal, microwaved with a cup of water
some dried cranberries, maybe 20 (?)
a few walnuts, maybe 6 halves (?)
a splash of 1% milk
1 tablespoon of Splenda/brown sugar mix. I would have used honey but we didn't have any.
1 small banana
I savored every bite and it was delicious.
I somehow missed lunch and found myself at the gym at 4pm starving to death. That was a total accident because I was running errands and forgot to eat. I had some Kashi bars in my car, some new pumpkin pecan bars. I ate two. I checked the label because I still do that, and they were 120 calories each. This was the only time I didn't follow the not eating in the car guideline, but I was parked at the gym and not listening to the radio.
I worked out doing cardio for an hour at the gym.
When I walked in the door at home, I was once again starving. I'd burned over 500 calories during my workout.
I decided to have another snack before I made dinner.
1 small banana
about 1/2 a glass of 1% milk maybe 3/4 cup
I sat at the table, slowly eating the banana, drinking the milk. I really wanted to shove it in my mouth and drink the milk in one big gulp, but I took the time to taste the banana and enjoy my snack.
Dinner was simple and it really was what I wanted, which is oddly what I eat quite often.
A large chicken breast, much larger than my normal 4 ounces, but I didn't weigh it. It was broiled with the Costco Sweet Mesquite Seasoning (love that stuff), and served with a little barbecue sauce
Brussels Sprouts, more than my normal serving, maybe 1 1/2 cups
Cherry tomatoes
A big glass of water
About an hour after dinner I had a KozyShack tapioca cup. It was not sugar-free. Topped with a squirt (a large one) of non-fat Redi-whip, which I won't be eating again. The pudding was wonderful, the Redi-whip was gross.
I'm cutting back on the sugar-free junk I've been eating. I'll still use Stevia because I don't mind the taste of it. I won't be eating a lot of sugar because it doesn't make me feel good. When I eat a lot of it, I get night sweats really bad. A small amount is okay, a lot is bad for me.
It's almost 9:30pm, and I'm going to eat a smallish Honeycrisp apple before I go to bed.
This is a lot more food than I normally eat, but I don't think I'll be getting up and gorging myself on a 500 to a 1,000 midnight snack tonight
I'm really curious if a week of eating like this will make a difference. Am I being stupid thinking I don't need to count every calorie I put in my mouth? Is this a mistake? Yes, it's that voice talking to me again, telling me I'm going to screw this up and gain a hundred pounds.
It needs to shut up.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Why I've been broken all these years
Some of what I learned at Geneen Roth's Women Food and God workshop this past weekend...
For as long as I can remember I've never understood my relationship with food. I'd read about other people struggling with food the same as me, but they always seemed to have a tragic story in their background. It made sense why they turned to food for comfort.
For me, it just didn't make any sense at all. I've had a fairly good life. My childhood was the life of a princess. I was loved and cared for, I was told I was the most beautiful and the smartest girl in the world. I was told I could do anything, be anything. I was spoiled and showered with not only love, but worldly possessions as well. I thought we were rich when I was a kid. I learned later in life that my parents were of modest means, but they sacrificed a lot so I could have whatever I wanted. I was blessed with a loving family and a good life.
Since I was about thirteen years old I've had an unnatural relationship with food. I've struggled with my weight my entire life. I've often said that I was "broken" when it came to food. I've felt like something was wrong inside of me. That food was too important to me. I wasn't normal when it came to how I thought about food. I didn't understand why. I kept searching for answers but always came up empty.
I even wondered if maybe I was sexually molested as a child and didn't remember it. I've read about how sexual molestation sometimes cause women to turn to food for comfort. I knew for me that was ridiculous. I lived a charmed life and nothing bad had ever happened to me. So what the hell was wrong with me?
Friday night Geneen had us do a visualization. It involved imagining our mother being there and what she would say to us at the weight we were now. My first thought was, "Oh God, she's going to blame our problems on our mothers! No way in hell my mother caused me to be fat and compulsively overeat."
I went along with the visualization, imagining my mother being there, telling me how beautiful I was and how healthy I looked. She'd tell me I was smart and I could succeed at anything I put my mind to. She always said those things to me, no matter how fat I was or how ugly and stupid I felt. I knew she would hug me, and love me just as I am today. It wouldn't matter if I was 125 pounds or 240 pounds.
As I was imagining my mother, picturing her there with me, something clicked inside my head. Something I've never thought about before. Something that explains the broken Diana.
When I was thirteen there was a terrible event that changed my life forever. My father died of a massive heart attack. He was 51 years old. My mother was 48. They had been married for thirty three years. Their marriage was the kind people dream about. They were best friends and lovers until the end. They held hands, they always greeted each other with a kiss and always said goodbye with a kiss. They never yelled at each other, and I don't even remember them ever having an arugment. They would sit at the kitchen table at night and talk for hours. They enjoyed each other's company. They did everything together. They were in love. I honestly can't even remember hearing a raised voice between them.
My father died at home, suddenly and very unexpectedly. My mother and I were home and we witnessed my father's heart attack and watched him dying in front of us. By the time the ambulance arrived he was already gone.
Life changed dramatically. My mother went into deep grieving for a year. I've never seen anyone weep so hard. It was like her heart was shattered into a million pieces. It was just my mother and myself. My brother and sister are much older and lived in other states with their families. All my aunts and uncles, cousins, and all our relatives lived outside of Alaska. It was just my mom and me, together to face the world alone.
After a year on the homestead we moved to Fairbanks so my mother could go to work. She had never worked outside the home. I was fourteen. I left all my friends I'd known since the first grade. In high school I was painfully shy. I made a few friends, but I wasn't popular. I didn't fit into the big city life. I was scared. Scared of everything. I didn't join any clubs or do any school activities. I never had a boyfriend or even dated in high school.
My mother and I became best friends. We did everything together. All through high school I'd rather hang out with my mom than anyone else. I remember many weekends where we would eat all weekend and watch TV. Friday night we'd go to the store and buy anything we wanted to eat. T-bone steaks, potatoes, sour cream, buttered vegetables or salads with thick full-fat salad dressings were all on the menu. Desserts were anything we wanted and as much as we wanted, cakes, pies, cookies, ice cream. Nothing was off limits.
My mom always had a weight problem and her weight climbed up to 260 pounds during those years. I was fighting my weight all the time, with intermittent crash diets but the fattest I ever got in high school was 145 pounds. Thankfully I had the metabolism of a teenager and even though I was abusing food I somehow managed to maintain my weight around 135 most of the time (I was 5' 6").
Still, we ate like pigs. It was fun. It was something we shared, that we loved to do together.
Now let me back up to something that Geneen talked about before the visualization on Friday night. She talked about pain, about eating compulsively to block out the pain. We don't want to face the pain because it hurts too much. So we stuff it down with food. Momentarily this blocks the pain. In the end though we still have the original pain as well as the pain from the overeating. The guilt. The weight gain. The self-hatred for overeating. We have now essentially doubled the pain. We need to feel the pain, let it wash over us, because it can't kill us. It's unpleasant, but not deadly. Even though we may think we're going to die from a broken heart, most likely, we will not die.
Geneen also spoke about how we often live with rules and ideas we learned twenty or thirty years ago. Even though they are based on false principles, we still follow them.
Back to 1968 through 1973. My mother and I never discussed my father's death. Even though we were both deeply wounded by it and missed him like crazy, we never talked about it. In those days (1968 is when he died) there wasn't any grief counseling. No one ever came to me and asked me how I felt, how I was dealing with my loss. The only thing I heard from anyone was that they were sorry. As a thirteen year old girl I had to deal with it on my own. I cried myself to sleep every night for about a year, and sometimes even to this day I cry about the unfairness of the entire situation, for both my mother and myself.
Friday night this all suddenly clicked in my head. I learned the way to deal with pain was food. I learned that lesson at thirteen years old and have been following it for the last 42 years.
When I came home Friday night I really gave this a lot of thought. I thought about how when my husband and I argue and I feel rejection that I turn to food. I never think about the pain of the rejection or the feelings of not being loved. That's too painful, it hurts to much. It's easier and safer to push it down with food. It's easier to not think about it.
It suddenly made sense to my why I've been broken so long. It was a true "aha!" moment for me. As Roxie put it, a moment of clarity that explains my life. My sick and obsessive relationship with food.
Last night after the second day of the workshop, I came home and did something I haven't done in years. First, I made myself go to the gym. Now that's not unusual, but this time I made a promise to myself and kept it. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I told myself thirty minutes of cardio, no more. I went to the gym and did thirty minutes of cardio, no more, and came home. Even though I was feeling better and could have done more cardio and some weights, I told myself a promise is a promise. Even one to myself shouldn't be broken.
When I came home from the gym my husband had made dinner. It was on the stove. Grilled steaks. Frozen mixed vegetables that had been microwaved and half of a sweet potato. It was 7pm, and I was starved. Normally I wouldn't have touched this meal with a ten-foot pole. The steak was well-done because that's how he likes his meat and he knew I wouldn't eat it anyway. I never touch beef and can't even remember the last time I had a steak. The vegetables had corn and carrots, mixed with green beans and Lima beans. Too many starchy vegetables for me. They looked like they had some Smart Balance on them. He always adds it to his vegetables. Still, it looked tasty. I was hungry.
I wanted to feed my body what it needed. It needed fuel. I hadn't eaten much all day. Grace and I had packed our healthy lunches for the conference, and I'd had a light breakfast. I looked at the meal my husband had made and thought okay, maybe 500-600 calories. No idea how much that steak weighs. Kind of small, but no idea.
I put the food on a plate, sat down at the table by myself, no book, no magazine, no music, no TV, no laptop, no distractions. Just me and my food. It was a strange experience. I ate each bite slowly. It tasted exquisite. The steak, although a little overdone, was perfectly seasoned. The mixed frozen vegetables were yummy (and yes, I could taste the light Smart Balance that tasted like butter), and the sweet potato was soft and flavorful. It was a delightful meal.
What was difficult was being alone with my thoughts. Rehashing everything I'd learned about myself in the workshop.
I feel like I've only uncovered the tip of the iceberg, but at least I know it's there. I have a lot of work to do on myself. Not only how I look at food, but how I deal with pain, discomfort, and rejection. I have a long road ahead of me but it's one I'm willing to travel.
I went to bed last night at 10pm. No wine and no sleeping pill. My husband was already asleep. I didn't toss and turn like normal, but I was asleep within minutes. I slept through the night until 6am. I woke up feeling like life is good and that I'm not broken anymore. I felt refreshed, alive. That is the first time in years that I didn't wake up at 3am and toss and turn until it was time to get up. It's also the first time in weeks, maybe months, that I didn't get up and stuff my face with food in the middle of the night as my husband slept.
My life has definitely taken a turn for the better. Getting to know me isn't quite as bad as I had imagined. It's painful, reliving things from my past and how they affect my present. It hurts to face the pain instead of eating it away with food. It feels good to know I'm not broken beyond repair and can finally come to a place of peace with food.
Please note, I do not in any way, shape or form blame my mother for anything that is wrong with me. She was an angel and loved me more than life itself. It's just something that happened to both of us, but it's something I can repair in myself.
For as long as I can remember I've never understood my relationship with food. I'd read about other people struggling with food the same as me, but they always seemed to have a tragic story in their background. It made sense why they turned to food for comfort.
For me, it just didn't make any sense at all. I've had a fairly good life. My childhood was the life of a princess. I was loved and cared for, I was told I was the most beautiful and the smartest girl in the world. I was told I could do anything, be anything. I was spoiled and showered with not only love, but worldly possessions as well. I thought we were rich when I was a kid. I learned later in life that my parents were of modest means, but they sacrificed a lot so I could have whatever I wanted. I was blessed with a loving family and a good life.
Since I was about thirteen years old I've had an unnatural relationship with food. I've struggled with my weight my entire life. I've often said that I was "broken" when it came to food. I've felt like something was wrong inside of me. That food was too important to me. I wasn't normal when it came to how I thought about food. I didn't understand why. I kept searching for answers but always came up empty.
I even wondered if maybe I was sexually molested as a child and didn't remember it. I've read about how sexual molestation sometimes cause women to turn to food for comfort. I knew for me that was ridiculous. I lived a charmed life and nothing bad had ever happened to me. So what the hell was wrong with me?
Friday night Geneen had us do a visualization. It involved imagining our mother being there and what she would say to us at the weight we were now. My first thought was, "Oh God, she's going to blame our problems on our mothers! No way in hell my mother caused me to be fat and compulsively overeat."
I went along with the visualization, imagining my mother being there, telling me how beautiful I was and how healthy I looked. She'd tell me I was smart and I could succeed at anything I put my mind to. She always said those things to me, no matter how fat I was or how ugly and stupid I felt. I knew she would hug me, and love me just as I am today. It wouldn't matter if I was 125 pounds or 240 pounds.
As I was imagining my mother, picturing her there with me, something clicked inside my head. Something I've never thought about before. Something that explains the broken Diana.
When I was thirteen there was a terrible event that changed my life forever. My father died of a massive heart attack. He was 51 years old. My mother was 48. They had been married for thirty three years. Their marriage was the kind people dream about. They were best friends and lovers until the end. They held hands, they always greeted each other with a kiss and always said goodbye with a kiss. They never yelled at each other, and I don't even remember them ever having an arugment. They would sit at the kitchen table at night and talk for hours. They enjoyed each other's company. They did everything together. They were in love. I honestly can't even remember hearing a raised voice between them.
My father died at home, suddenly and very unexpectedly. My mother and I were home and we witnessed my father's heart attack and watched him dying in front of us. By the time the ambulance arrived he was already gone.
Life changed dramatically. My mother went into deep grieving for a year. I've never seen anyone weep so hard. It was like her heart was shattered into a million pieces. It was just my mother and myself. My brother and sister are much older and lived in other states with their families. All my aunts and uncles, cousins, and all our relatives lived outside of Alaska. It was just my mom and me, together to face the world alone.
After a year on the homestead we moved to Fairbanks so my mother could go to work. She had never worked outside the home. I was fourteen. I left all my friends I'd known since the first grade. In high school I was painfully shy. I made a few friends, but I wasn't popular. I didn't fit into the big city life. I was scared. Scared of everything. I didn't join any clubs or do any school activities. I never had a boyfriend or even dated in high school.
My mother and I became best friends. We did everything together. All through high school I'd rather hang out with my mom than anyone else. I remember many weekends where we would eat all weekend and watch TV. Friday night we'd go to the store and buy anything we wanted to eat. T-bone steaks, potatoes, sour cream, buttered vegetables or salads with thick full-fat salad dressings were all on the menu. Desserts were anything we wanted and as much as we wanted, cakes, pies, cookies, ice cream. Nothing was off limits.
My mom always had a weight problem and her weight climbed up to 260 pounds during those years. I was fighting my weight all the time, with intermittent crash diets but the fattest I ever got in high school was 145 pounds. Thankfully I had the metabolism of a teenager and even though I was abusing food I somehow managed to maintain my weight around 135 most of the time (I was 5' 6").
Still, we ate like pigs. It was fun. It was something we shared, that we loved to do together.
Now let me back up to something that Geneen talked about before the visualization on Friday night. She talked about pain, about eating compulsively to block out the pain. We don't want to face the pain because it hurts too much. So we stuff it down with food. Momentarily this blocks the pain. In the end though we still have the original pain as well as the pain from the overeating. The guilt. The weight gain. The self-hatred for overeating. We have now essentially doubled the pain. We need to feel the pain, let it wash over us, because it can't kill us. It's unpleasant, but not deadly. Even though we may think we're going to die from a broken heart, most likely, we will not die.
Geneen also spoke about how we often live with rules and ideas we learned twenty or thirty years ago. Even though they are based on false principles, we still follow them.
Back to 1968 through 1973. My mother and I never discussed my father's death. Even though we were both deeply wounded by it and missed him like crazy, we never talked about it. In those days (1968 is when he died) there wasn't any grief counseling. No one ever came to me and asked me how I felt, how I was dealing with my loss. The only thing I heard from anyone was that they were sorry. As a thirteen year old girl I had to deal with it on my own. I cried myself to sleep every night for about a year, and sometimes even to this day I cry about the unfairness of the entire situation, for both my mother and myself.
Friday night this all suddenly clicked in my head. I learned the way to deal with pain was food. I learned that lesson at thirteen years old and have been following it for the last 42 years.
When I came home Friday night I really gave this a lot of thought. I thought about how when my husband and I argue and I feel rejection that I turn to food. I never think about the pain of the rejection or the feelings of not being loved. That's too painful, it hurts to much. It's easier and safer to push it down with food. It's easier to not think about it.
It suddenly made sense to my why I've been broken so long. It was a true "aha!" moment for me. As Roxie put it, a moment of clarity that explains my life. My sick and obsessive relationship with food.
Last night after the second day of the workshop, I came home and did something I haven't done in years. First, I made myself go to the gym. Now that's not unusual, but this time I made a promise to myself and kept it. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I told myself thirty minutes of cardio, no more. I went to the gym and did thirty minutes of cardio, no more, and came home. Even though I was feeling better and could have done more cardio and some weights, I told myself a promise is a promise. Even one to myself shouldn't be broken.
When I came home from the gym my husband had made dinner. It was on the stove. Grilled steaks. Frozen mixed vegetables that had been microwaved and half of a sweet potato. It was 7pm, and I was starved. Normally I wouldn't have touched this meal with a ten-foot pole. The steak was well-done because that's how he likes his meat and he knew I wouldn't eat it anyway. I never touch beef and can't even remember the last time I had a steak. The vegetables had corn and carrots, mixed with green beans and Lima beans. Too many starchy vegetables for me. They looked like they had some Smart Balance on them. He always adds it to his vegetables. Still, it looked tasty. I was hungry.
I wanted to feed my body what it needed. It needed fuel. I hadn't eaten much all day. Grace and I had packed our healthy lunches for the conference, and I'd had a light breakfast. I looked at the meal my husband had made and thought okay, maybe 500-600 calories. No idea how much that steak weighs. Kind of small, but no idea.
I put the food on a plate, sat down at the table by myself, no book, no magazine, no music, no TV, no laptop, no distractions. Just me and my food. It was a strange experience. I ate each bite slowly. It tasted exquisite. The steak, although a little overdone, was perfectly seasoned. The mixed frozen vegetables were yummy (and yes, I could taste the light Smart Balance that tasted like butter), and the sweet potato was soft and flavorful. It was a delightful meal.
What was difficult was being alone with my thoughts. Rehashing everything I'd learned about myself in the workshop.
I feel like I've only uncovered the tip of the iceberg, but at least I know it's there. I have a lot of work to do on myself. Not only how I look at food, but how I deal with pain, discomfort, and rejection. I have a long road ahead of me but it's one I'm willing to travel.
I went to bed last night at 10pm. No wine and no sleeping pill. My husband was already asleep. I didn't toss and turn like normal, but I was asleep within minutes. I slept through the night until 6am. I woke up feeling like life is good and that I'm not broken anymore. I felt refreshed, alive. That is the first time in years that I didn't wake up at 3am and toss and turn until it was time to get up. It's also the first time in weeks, maybe months, that I didn't get up and stuff my face with food in the middle of the night as my husband slept.
My life has definitely taken a turn for the better. Getting to know me isn't quite as bad as I had imagined. It's painful, reliving things from my past and how they affect my present. It hurts to face the pain instead of eating it away with food. It feels good to know I'm not broken beyond repair and can finally come to a place of peace with food.
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Please note, I do not in any way, shape or form blame my mother for anything that is wrong with me. She was an angel and loved me more than life itself. It's just something that happened to both of us, but it's something I can repair in myself.
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